


A Midnight Meeting

by Maewn



Category: Fable 2 (Video Game), Fable 3 (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 10:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12680217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maewn/pseuds/Maewn
Summary: "I apologize for the lateness of the hour, your Majesty," Walter says then pauses, because the woman sitting in the chair is not the Queen.





	A Midnight Meeting

Walter knocks on the door of the royal suites, wondering if he can even be overheard by the great crashing of thunder outside the palace.

“Enter,” the Queen calls and Walter pushes open the doors, steps through and closes them behind him.

“I apologize for the lateness of the hour, your Majesty,” he says then pauses, because the woman sitting in the chair is not the Queen.

Or rather, not the _current_ Queen.

The Necromancer Queen, Queen Iris, the First of her Name, Champion of Bowerstone, and Vanquisher of Lucien the Mad, smiles at him from her seat by the fireplace, red eyes gleaming like rubies in her dark face.

She’s dressed in dark red silk and her hair, usually braided, lies about her shoulders, a mantle of brushed ebony.

“I must be seeing things,” Walter mutters, rubbing at his eyes. Surely, he’s not had _that_ much coffee. They’ve all been running around like madmen trying to prepare Albion to weather the Crawler’s arrival.

Iris laughs, waving him to sit in the chair opposite. “Do sit down Walter,” she says. “You’ve merely fallen asleep in the library again. Nothing too terrible I promise.”

Walter sinks into the chair, thankful for the plush softness that cushions his aching bones. A lifetime of fighting will do that to a body.

“I am grateful that you have supported my children,” Iris says, folding her hands in her lap.

“I tried, your Majesty,” Walter says, “even when Logan returned from Aurora, haunted by…that _thing_.”

“I know you did,” Iris says. “I wanted Logan to be a good king. And perhaps, if the Crawler had not come, he would have been. But people pushed to the brink are changed and not often for the better.”

She sighs. “Would that I could have been there, to help prepare him for the throne.”

“You did what you could,” Walter says. This is an odd dream, but it’s nice to have conversations with old friends, even if it is all in his head. Better than nightmares at any rate.

“Yes, well, my husbands were decent advisors,” Iris says, “They definitely helped during Logan’s early reign. Made the transition a little less harsh.”

“Yes,” Walter replies, thinking of those early days, when all he had to worry about was proper security and maintaining the army.

He misses those days.

Rain patters the windows, thunder rumbling in the distance as the storm continues.

“Do you think we stand a chance?” he asks.

Iris hums, and is silent, staring into the flames.

“I think you do,” she says quietly. “But I fear it may come at a great cost, to both the kingdom, and the throne.”

“But you believe we can win,” Walter says.

“Yes,” Iris says, meeting his eyes. “Yes, I believe you will win this fight.”

Walter nods, leaning back into his chair, feeling suddenly more relaxed than he has in weeks.

“Get some rest,” Iris advises, “And make sure my daughter doesn’t run herself into the ground trying to do all the work. She can delegate.”

“Of course, your Majesty,” Walter says, grinning. “I seem to recall Marcus telling you something similar years ago. Nice to see it’s sunk in.”

Iris snorts. “Don’t get cheeky with me, Walter.”

“Your Majesty, I would not dare,” Walter replies.

Iris shakes her head, “Still the same as ever. Go on, off to bed with you.”

The scene around him blurs, warm and comforting as Walter sinks into a deep sleep where there are no shadows to taunt him.

He wakes in the library, blinking groggily in the morning sunlight.

Avo, he was getting old, falling asleep amidst piles of paper and old tomes. He yawns, stretching. He’d slept well, no nightmares or dreams for that matter.

It was not a bad way to start off the day, all things considered.

“Good morning, Walter,” Queen Rose says, walking by with a mug of what smelled like coffee. She’s dressed more informally today, as there are no royal meetings on the agenda, in simple pants and a shirt, black hair tied loosely in a ponytail.

“Good morning, your Majesty,” Walter says. “Sleep well?”

“I did,” the Queen says, sipping her coffee. “Did you? That table couldn’t have been very comfortable.”

“I slept like a rock actually,” Walter says. “No nightmares. I had almost forgotten what that was like.”

The Queen smiles. “Come on, there’s still work to do. Let’s get to it.”

“Yes, your Majesty.”


End file.
